


A Truly Awful Night

by WellSchitt



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: First Kiss, Kinda, M/M, Misunderstandings, Online Dating, Rough Sex (mentioned), but no actual dub con, suspected dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:13:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WellSchitt/pseuds/WellSchitt
Summary: David was standing in front of Sebastien’s door about to knock when it swung open.Patrick stumbled out.





	A Truly Awful Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is only rated M for kinda dark themes that are mentioned briefly, but I figured it's better safe than sorry.

David’s hair looked good. _He_ looked good. He was wearing the smoky cedar cologne that Sebastien favored and the jacket he’d worn the night they met, plus his black Berlutis and jeans that hugged his ass and thighs.

More importantly: he’d thought this through. It was distasteful and not particularly classy, maybe, but it was ultimately worth it for his mother. And, if he was being honest, for getting a bit of his own back, too.

On some level, he’d even enjoy it. David liked it rough, occasionally.

He was ready. He had two condoms in his pocket and a mission, and he’d considered every possible contingency.

At least, he thought he had.

—

David was standing in front of Sebastien’s door about to knock when it swung open.

Patrick stumbled out.

He didn’t register David at first, and no wonder. He was practically fleeing, carrying his shoes in one hand with his socks stuffed inside them. His shirt—not the blue one he’d worn at the store today, a tighter black one—was completely unbuttoned and hanging off one pale shoulder. David realized with a jolt that he had a red bite mark on his neck and his jeans were open, revealing a flash of blue underwear.

Patrick nearly bowled him over in his rush to leave Sebastien’s room, and David caught the sharp scent of hard liquor on his breath. The one saving grace of the situation was that the door immediately snapped shut behind him and stayed shut. Apparently, whatever had happened between them, Sebastien wasn’t chasing his prey.

“Sorry, excuse me, sorry.” Patrick finally looked up and met David’s eyes. David was expecting him to blush; instead, he went pale. “Shit. David.”

Without a word, David grabbed his shoulder—the clothed one, _Jesus_—and yanked him away from there. It felt like his room was not far enough, like he had to get Patrick somewhere else entirely, somewhere across the street or the province or the country. He wanted as much distance as possible between Patrick and Sebastien, preferably something measured in kilometers. His room had a lock, though, and the idea of getting a locked door between them as quickly as possible won out.

His blood was rushing in his ears like the time he’d almost smashed his Benz into the side a semi truck while hyped up on speed. He knew he was gripping Patrick too tightly.

“David, I- we’re _outside_, can I have a second to-”

But before Patrick could get the sentence out, David was dragging him into his room. The instant the door was locked behind them he jerked his hand from Patrick’s arm like it had burned him.

Patrick turned away, hiding his face while he frantically put himself back together, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, then his shirt. Staring at his back and legs, David willed himself to develop x-ray vision; there weren’t any bruises he could see, and Patrick didn’t seem hurt as he sat on Alexis’s bed to pull on his socks and shoes.

But Patrick’s hands shook, tying his laces.

Turning away sharply, David peered through the peephole. Sebastien hadn’t followed them.

“I’m sorry, I knew you lived here but I didn’t- I didn’t think you would-”

Glancing back, David saw that Patrick had buttoned his shirt right up to the collar. It didn’t cover the bite mark.

He swallowed his nausea and tried to pick the most urgent questions from the thousands flitting around his brain. He ignored _how the fuck?_ and _what did he tell you?_ and, pathetically, _why not me?_

“Did he hurt you?”

_Did you let him fuck you? Did he wear a condom? Are you sure?_

“I didn’t- no. No, of course not.” Patrick sat hunched on the bed watching him pace, eyes wide, arms crossed tight over his chest. “But I didn’t- I didn’t say it was a guy, that I was with a guy- how-”

Impatiently waving that away, David moved down the list. “Did he film you?”

“_What?!_” Patrick asked, far too loudly. Hopefully his mother had taken her pill early.

David wondered how he could possibly explain someone like Sebastien to someone like Patrick. Then he gave up and focused on practicalities instead. “The camera wouldn’t have been, like, on a tripod. It would be sitting out somewhere, but casually, maybe on the desk or on a stack of books on the nightstand, but without a lens cap. Like he just happened to set it down facing the bed.” The idea of Patrick in bed with Sebastien hit him viscerally at the last word—the things Sebastien liked to do, the image of him doing them to Patrick.

Of course, it was entirely possible that Patrick also liked it rough occasionally, and that turned David’s stomach for a different reason. But no, something bad had happened; that wasn’t a normal walk of shame.

Uncomprehending, mouth agape, Patrick stared up at him.

David closed his eyes and let his head fall back, fighting to stay calm. “It’s a thing Sebastien does. Try to remember. Did you see any cameras?”

“Sebastien?” Patrick said faintly. “David, how do you know that guy?”

Well, they weren’t getting into _that _tonight. Or ever. “He’s a photographer from New York, he came here to take photographs of my mother. His name is Sebastien Raine… I’m guessing he gave you a fake one?”

“I… please believe me, I had no idea you knew him. I just saw a screen name on the app, we didn’t exactly-”

All the effort of staying calm and keeping his voice low went right out the window. “You found him on a _sex app_? You found a complete stranger—on a _sex app_—and you met him, an anonymous internet possible-Unabomber stranger, at his shitty motel room? For _sex_? What the hell were you- from an _app_\- Stevie could have found your dismembered body on ice in the fucking bathtub-”

Patrick’s arms crossed again, defensively. “Are you telling me you’ve never-”

“Of course _I_ have, because _I_ make terrible life choices. That’s who I am, fundamentally, as a person. _What_ is your excuse?” He was yelling. He was yelling at his business partner, who he’d only known for a month, about his sex life.

Flushed to his ears, Patrick pressed his lips together tight.

David held up a hand, halting an answer that didn’t seem to be coming, anyway. “Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. Just… the camera thing. Do you remember one in the room?”

Patrick nodded slowly. “There was one on the desk. I don’t remember exactly-”

But David was already unlocking the door.

—

“What are you going to do? David? David!”

David didn’t stop. Patrick was barely out of the room by the time he was slamming an open palm on Sebastien’s door.

It opened almost immediately. “David! I’m glad you’re here, come-”

He shouldered roughly past Sebastian and went right for the desk at the back of the room. Fortunately Sebastien simply stood aside and gaped. He had no idea how to handle David shoving him around—it was always the other way around, with them.

The camera wasn’t facing the bed, but maybe it had been earlier. It didn’t really matter. Sebastien had the pictures of his mother on there, regardless.

“Whoa, David, hang on, what are you-”

He had the memory card in his hand by the time Patrick was at the door.

“_David_, wait, we should-” Patrick sounded as shocked as Sebastien.

“_You’re_ back?” Sebastien now looked completely bewildered, his mouth hanging open stupidly, his hands up in surrender like he thought Patrick might hit him. At any other time, David would have savored that look on his face. “And, what, you know David?”

His confusion gave David the half second he needed to get to the bathroom. He worried for a moment that the memory card wouldn’t flush, but the decrepit motel toilet didn’t let him down (for once). The card swirled briefly and disappeared, taking with it his mother’s ill-conceived collaboration and any evidence that Patrick was ever in that room.

“Your photography is shit, anyway,” David said, and he walked right past Sebastien and Patrick towards his room.

“Your boyfriend’s the one who messaged me,” Sebastien yelled after him, petty and spiteful and small. Maybe he’d always been exactly that, small—David wasn’t sure. He only knew he’d outgrown him.

“Not my boyfriend,” David called without looking back. “And stay the hell away from my mother!”

—

Patrick followed him to his room, and David really wished he wouldn’t have. He desperately needed some privacy to eat his feelings—and then maybe throw them right back up again, depending on how much alcohol he had stashed under his bed.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Patrick was watching him closely, standing in the open doorway.

“I really did.” David knew he looked manic, shaking his hands out while pacing the small room even faster than before. He needed Patrick to leave. The image of him and Sebastien together, even just standing side by side in the same room, disturbed him on an existential level—the worst of his past and the best of his present juxtaposing unpleasantly, with a helping of jealousy and embarrassment sprinkled in. “Could you shut the door, please?”

Patrick did, but he stepped into the room first. Damn it. “No. I mean you _really_ didn’t have to. We, uh. He—Sebastien?—he couldn’t have recorded anything, because we-”

“He had pictures of my mother, too. I told you that. Nothing scandalous, just unflattering.” David did _not _want to talk about what, specifically, Patrick and Sebastien had gotten up to.

“But he’s not just some photographer here to work with your mom? I’m guessing?”

“He’s my ex.” God, there it was, the thought he’d been trying not to have. Patrick had slept with his ex—not even Stevie, which David had been mentally prepared for, at least, because she was funny and sarcastic and gorgeous and Patrick seemed as straight as the neat line of buttons on his shirts.

No. Of all fucking people, Patrick had chosen _Sebastien_ over him.

Fuck, it wasn’t fair to think about it that way. Patrick wasn’t obligated to consider David as an option just because he liked men.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Patrick’s face was full of some emotion David couldn’t parse. He had to see that David was spiraling—he wasn’t exactly adept at hiding it.

“Didn’t chat long on this app of yours, I take it?” David tried to make it sound like a joke, but it fell flat.

God, he didn’t care anymore; he didn’t want to care. He didn’t have the energy. Maybe he’d never liked Patrick that much, anyway—Patrick was too vanilla, too _nice_, for someone like him.

It would be so much easier to lie to himself about this without Patrick in the room.

“We didn’t sleep together,” Patrick said quietly, his puppy-dog eyes still intent on David’s face.

Closing his eyes, David took a deep breath and tried to think of something, anything, to say in response to that. His brain was working so much more slowly than his emotions.

Whatever Patrick saw on his face gave him the mistaken impression that he should keep talking. “I barely even- I was only in there for a few minutes. And I didn’t- I never do that. I’ve never done that before, I mean, used a dating app just for a hookup. Not that there’s anything wrong with- I mean I’ve had one night stands, but…”

“Patrick. Stop. You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“I do,” Patrick said, with that stubborn expression (_‘Oh, I’m gonna get the money’_) that David liked so much, too much. “I do, because the only reason I was on a- a gay dating app in the first place, was because I wanted to see if- I wanted to figure out-” He took a deep breath and let it out before continuing. “It’s just that I’ve been having feelings for, um, this guy. This guy that I work with.”

David bit his lip, hard, against the surge of hope that ran through him. He knew with a reasonable level of certainty that Patrick wasn’t talking about Ray.

“But I’ve never done anything like that before. With a guy. So.”

David nodded. He kept his eyes closed, overwhelmed by at least the third emotional roller coaster of the night, even though he heard Patrick step closer to him.

“It was a stupid idea. I got in there, and we started… and it was fine, for about two minutes. But he was going, uh, really fast, and then he tried to kiss me on the lips, and I just... freaked out. Because I didn’t want to kiss _him_.”

Patrick was standing very close to him, now. David still didn’t open his eyes, not even when a warm hand touched his face.

“David,” Patrick said, almost a whisper. “Say something.”

David blinked and found himself staring into soft whisky-brown eyes that looked very impatient, but not at all self-assured.

Patrick had been brave enough tonight, so David mustered his courage and closed the last few inches between their lips. When he pulled away, Patrick’s small smile told him that it hadn’t been a mistake.

A car pulled up outside, and David recognized the heavy sound of Ted’s truck with something like relief.

“Well, that was a truly awful night,” David said, smiling ruefully at Patrick. “And now my sister is home. So… can we talk tomorrow?”

“We can talk whenever you’d like.” Wow, Patrick looked _happy_. David wasn’t sure anyone else had ever looked that happy about kissing him before. “Goodnight, David.” He opened the door, looking back like he didn’t want to leave.

“Goodnight, Patrick.” David hid his smile until the door closed.

—

“David! Why was that sweet little button face here? He just asked Ted for a ride home.”

His phone chiming gave David an excuse to ignore her.

**Patrick, 10:23 pm:** Thank you for making that happen for us <3

**Author's Note:**

> I have a partially written version where Patrick and Sebastien do sleep together, but I like this better.
> 
> I'm on tumblr at well-schitt.tumblr.com <3


End file.
